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1 


The Purple Hyacinth 


31 jFairp cSitorp 


JUNIATA ‘^ALSBURY 



NEW YORK LONDON 

THE TRANSATLANTIC PUBLISHING COMPANY 

63 Fifth Avenue 26 Henrietta St., Covent Garden 
MDCCCXCV 




Duk 


.5 /6 
Fll 


Copyrighted, 1895, 

BY 

THE TRANSATLANTIC PUBLISHING COMPANY 



The house had once been 
painted yellow, but the heat of 
summer suns had scorched and 
blistered it here and there ; the drifting 
snows and searching winds of many winters 
had cracked and lifted the scales of paint, 
that year after year were washed away by 
the spring showers, till only enough of the origi- 
nal color remained around the windows, or up 
under the eaves, to show why it was called 
The Old Yellow House/' 

Years ago, when it was new, it wore its coat of 
yellow paint with a proud, comfortable air, as it 
stood on a little rise of ground surrounded by 
grassy meadows and fruitful orchards. 


8 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


But the hands that planted and pruned the 
orchard trees were at rest; the eyes that had 
looked with hope and pride across the billowy 
fields were closed ; and the yellow house fell into 
the hands of tenants, each one more careless than 
his predecessor, until now at last the house was 
tenantless. 

It had stood unoccupied for years, and no one 
thought of it as a possible habitation, till that 
lovely morning in early May, when Conrad van 
Roosen, the Dutch gardener, came to Rochester, 
looking for work in the nursery- 
gardens, and at the same time for a 
home for his motherless little girls, 
Louise and Gretchen. 

He had little difficulty in obtain- 
ing the situation he sought, for he 
brought with him letters of intro- 
duction and recommendatiopi* 

Conrad had at one time been a 
seedsman in New York, and an importer of plants 
and bulbs, and his knowledge of nearly every 
kind of tree and plant was very extensive. 



THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


9 


But reverses of fortune had come to him, first 
through the dishonest dealings of his business 
partner, and then the long sickness and death of 
his lovely young wife, and Conrad had been re- 
duced from a quite prosperous seed-merchant to 
a gardener, working for such scanty wages that 
at times it seemed all too little to feed and clothe 
himself and children, and pay rent for even the 
poorest room. 

So it was not strange that The Old Yellow 
House ’’ suggested the possibility of a home for 
his children, as he stopped for a moment to rest 
by the roadside. Leaning over the broken gate, 
he thought that with a few repairs after his day’s 
work at the nursery-gardens the old house might 
be made not only habitable, but even cheerful. 

He was not long in finding the person who had 
charge of the place, and rented it for an entire 
year for less than three months’ rent for his one 
cramped room in the city had been. 

In a few days the doors and windows of the 
old house were thrown open and the sweet May 
breezes swept through the musty, disused rooms ; 


10 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


a flood of sunshine streamed across the mossy 
doorsteps and through the doorway, giving 
Louise and Gretchen a cheerful welcome as their 
father brought them to their new home. 


Louise was a sturdy little girl with 
a round, good-natured, rosy face, and 
a merry laugh, that seemed the nat- 
ural result of perfect health. 



But Gretchen, dear little Gretchen, 
was lame. 


When she was but little more than a 


baby-girl she had slipped from the top of a trunk 
on which she had climbed, and injured one of 
her hips. At first the doctors said she could 
not live, but doctors do not always know. 

For a whole long year the little girl lay on 
her tiny white bed, and then, by degrees, she 
learned to go about very carefully and slowly on 
crutches. 

But there were many days when she was too 
weak and too ill to attempt to use them, and she 
would sit all day in a reclining-chair, playing with 
and arranging her scanty stock of toys in a 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


11 


convenient little cabinet of drawers which her 
father had made and fastened to the side of her 
chair. 

In the city sometimes she was very lonely; 
Conrad was away all day at his w^ork, and Louise 
at school or playing with other children, but 
Gretchen never complained, and was never sor- 
rowful. 

She would sit for hours looking beyond the 
chimney-tops, at the curling 
wreaths of smoke and steam 
that arose from the great fac- 
tories not far away ; the float- 
ing, ever-changing clouds assumed 
for her shapes that no one else 
could see ; and the wind, sweeping 
and whistling over the tall roof- 
tops, was always bearing messages that she 
understood. 

One day she told Louise of a conversation that 
she had heard between the wind and the sparrows 
that were hopping on the roof of the next house, 
and then,” she added, it almost seemed as if 



12 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


the wind talked to me, although he did not speak 
my name.” 

No, I should think not,” said Louise, with a 
look of surprised unbelief; but what did he 
say?” 

Oh,” said Gretchen, looking from the window 
toward a mass of drifting clouds, he said that 
away off in the country there were patches, larger 
than this room, where little blue flowers were 



growing so thick and so close together that even 
a baby-sparrow couldn’t hop between them.” 

Humph! I s’pose not,” said Louise, con- 
temptuously, ’cause a baby-sparrow can’t do any- 
thing but stay in the nest and be fed ; but what 
else did he say ? ” 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


13 


Why, he said that the trees were all snowing 
flowers, and ” 

Pshaw ! snowing / Who ever heard 

of such a thing ! ” and Louise bounded away 
from the window where they were leaning. And 
the vdnd can’t talk anyway,” she asserted em- 
phatically. 

“ Oh, yes, he can,” said Gretchen; if you only 
keep very quiet and think just what he is trying 
to tell you, you will hear it as plain as any- 
thing. And oh, he told the sparrows a lot more 
things.” Gretchen, seeing the look of disbelief 
on Louise’s face, sank back in her chair without 
telling what they were. But,” she added, 
I am going to ask papa to take us out there to 
the country, wherever it is. Everything is always 
the same here ; everything but the wind and the 
clouds,” and her voice grew soft and tender as 
she mentioned them. 

And so it was at her earnest entreaty that 
Conrad left the great crowded city, and sought 
employment and a home in the country. 



When Gretchen was carried in her father’s arms 
from the wagon that had brought them, with 
their trunks, boxes, and household goods, from 
the railway station, her heart beat so fast with 
wonder and delight that she could scarcely speak. 

Oh, papa dear,” she whispered, clasping her 
arms about his neck, isn’t it beautiful? It 
looks like Holland, where you lived when you 
were a little boy, doesn’t it ? The steep pointed 
roof, and the low broad porch and mossy stone 
steps ; why, yes, papa, even the yellow color of 
the queer, pretty, old house.” 

Why, my little girl, you speak as if you had 
been in Holland.” And Conrad laughed as he 
placed her on one of the weather-beaten seats 

of the old porch. 

14 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


15 


^^Yes, papa, I think I have,” was her grave 
reply. ^^Not really myself, you know, but my 
thoughts. Whenever you have told us stories 
about Holland, I always seem to be there, and I 
think,” — she paused for fitting words to express 
her thoughts. 

Conrad laid his hand gently on her tangled 



hair and said: “Yes, I know, Gretchen, you 
think you have been there in spirit. Well, 
well, dear, I often take the journey in that same 


16 


THE PUEPLE HYACINTH. 


way myself.” And he left the little girl to her 
own thoughts, while he unpacked and arranged 
the things that were being unloaded from the 
wagon. 

Louise had explored every nook and corner of 
the house, had decided which room should be 
hers and Gretchen’s, and knew where there was a 
robin’s nest in the cherry-tree at the back-door, 
ere she had been there ten minutes. 

The house was but one story high, and con- 
tained only four rooms. 

The front door opened, not into a hall, but 
directly into a large, low-ceiled room, with a great 
fireplace at one end, which had been boarded up 
and papered like the walls. 

At the other end of the room were two bed- 
rooms, one of which the decisive little Louise had 
chosen for herself and Gretchen. 

With the assistance of a good-natured Irish 
woman who lived not far away the cottage was 
soon clean, their furniture arranged, and with 
some snowy muslin curtains at the windows, poor 
and scanty as were all their belongings, the old 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


17 


house assumed a really cheerful and home-like 
appearance. 

In a few weeks Conrad had mended the broken 
gate and fence, and 
had trimmed the riot- 
ous wild grape-vine 
that clambered over 
the porch. He had 
also made some flower- 
beds and planted seeds and 
bulbs. 

The trees in the orchard, 
as if delighted at seeing 
the dear old place rescued from neglect and 
ruin, burst into bloom, and, flinging their 
blossoms to the glad May breeze, the perfumed 
petals fell in showers like a benediction upon 
■ • Conrad and his happy little girls. 

There, now, Louise, you see the wind told the 
sparrows true when he said it was ^ snowing flow- 
ers,’ ” said Gretcben one day when they were 
sitting on the doorstep. 

Conrad went every morning to work at the 




18 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


nursery-gardens and the greenhouse, and nearly 
always remained there until evening, so the 
little girls were alone all day. 

Mrs. Fallon, their Irish neighbor, came one day 
every week to do their washing 
and baking and ^Ho toidy up a 
bit,” as she expressed it.” 

The rest of the time Conrad 
and Louise performed the few 
simple household tasks there w^ere 
to he done. 

Gretchen was by no means en- 
tirely helpless ; a woman in the city had taught 
her how to sew and darn very neatly, and her 
nimble, deft little hands kept all their clothes in 
good repair. And sometimes, when she was feel- 
ing strong enough, she went about on her 
crutches, dusting the furniture, shoving the chairs 
to their places, or wiping the dishes while Louise 
washed them. 

They had finished their morning’s work and 
had seated themselves on the sunny doorstep to 
talk it all over, the delight of being in the 



THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


19 



country, and they did 
this a dozen times every 
day. 

Louise leaned her round, 
rosy chin in the palms of her 
hands, rested her elbows on 
her knees, and watched the 
shower of snowy blossoms 
without making any reply to 
Gretchen’s remark about the 
snowing flowers.’’ 

“I guess you b’lieve now 
that the wind can tell things, 
don’t you ? ” persisted little 
Gretchen. 

No, I don’t b’lieve it any 
more than I did in the city,” 
said Louise. 

‘^Well, then, how did we 
know there was going to be 
^ snowing flowers ? ’ We never 
saw them before.” 

Why, I s’pose some one told you about them, 


20 


THE PUEPLE HYACINTH. 


or you read about them in a book, or else maybe 
you dreamed it, and thought you heard the wind 
talking to the sparrows,’’ replied Louise. 

No, I didn’t dream it; it was plainer than a 
dream, and the big field down there all thick with 
the little blue flowers, how could I dream 
that ? 

And the little bit of a brook that trickles down 
through the orchard, and into 
the trough by the roadside 
where the men stop on their 
way to 
town to let 
the horses 
drink, is 
all just ex- 
actly like 
the wind 
said it 

would be. I am so glad we are here.” 

Did the wind tell you anything about the 
house, and these stone steps and funny old 
porch ? ” questioned Louise. 



THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


21 


“No, I don’t think he did” admitted Gretchen, 
somewhat reluctantly. 

“ W ell, then, I don’t b’lieve he said anything, 
for if he had, he would have told you about the 
house the first thing, ’cause that is the most im- 
portant of all. I think having a house where there 
ain’t a lot of steep stairs to go up and down, and a 
nice bedroom all our own, with white curtains at 
the windows, is a good deal nicer than all the field 
full of blue flowers,” said the practical Louise. 

“ Oh, yes, indeed it is 
nice,” said Gretchen. “ I 
like to wake up real early in 
the morning and look at the 
curtains, and think about 
the house, and feel glad 
that it is ours, or at least it 
seems like our very own.” 

“It is our own as long 
as we live in it, and papa says that maybe 

some day ” but Louise did not finish her 

sentence, for just then she saw some children 
coming down the road with their dinner-pails 



22 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


on their way to school, and she was reminded 
that she, too, was to become a pupil at the 
little white school-house under the big chest- 



nut-trees about half a mile away. So, jumping 
up from her seat by Gretchen on the doorstep, 
she ran into the house for her hat, and was soon 
on her way to school. 



THE PUEPLE HYACINTH. 


23 


And Gretchen^ sitting there in the sunshine 
with all the sweet growing things around her, 
was so happy that, like the birds that sing for 
joy, she hurst into a merry little song. 

She had a way of singing her thoughts some- 
times when she was alone, fitting her words to 
tunes that she had heard on every side in the city. 

Bits of opera-music, popular street-songs, and 
church-music, followed each other in quick succes- 
sion as she sang, and all the sweet growing things 
around her seemed to respond by swaying, bend- 
ing, and nodding, as the gentle breeze passed over 
them. 







The bulbs and seeds planted by 
Conrad in the flower-beds by the 
front door grew and blossomed 
through that glad, happy summer, 
and brought untold delight to Gretchen and 
Louise as they watched the leaves and buds 
unfold. 

But now the last flower had dropped its petals, 
and the long, slender leaves of the gladiolus rustled 
and fluttered in the chill November air, like 
brown ribbons,” Gretchen thought as she watched 
them from her accustomed seat at the window. 

She was sorry to see the beautiful green things 
all cut down and browned by the frost of autumn, 
but yet the swirling leaves that flew in dusky 
showers across the window-panes, from the apple- 
trees, were almost as interesting as some of the 
blossomy showers of summer-time had been. 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 25 

Through the summer days 
Louise had been at school, or 
away across the fields and 
hills, picking berries, or play- 
ing with the children of the 
neighborhood, with whom she 
had become a great favorite. 

But now that summer had 
gone, and the holiday season 
was approaching, there was em- 
ployment for a number of lit- 
tle girls at a seed-sorting and 
packing establishment in the 
town. 

The children were engaged 
in tying up little bunches of 
straAV-flowers and immortelles, 
to be used in wreaths and fes- 
toons for Christmas decora- 
tions. 

Louise had begged that 
she might join the throng of 
busy little workers, and Con- 
rad, whose wages during the 



26 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 



£ 3 '^/ 


winter were very small, had given 
his consent, and Louise trudged 
away every morning, carrying her 
dinner-basket, and did not return 
until it was quite dark. 

Although Gretchen was accus- 


tomed to spending many hours 
alone, and had a happy faculty of amusing her- 
self in various ways, she sometimes found these 
winter days very long and lonely. 

She watched the flying gray clouds as they 
drifted away over the hills beyond the meadow 
where the carpet of tiny blue flowers had been. 

And the wind that had coquetted and played 
among the pearly blossoms of the apple-trees 
seemed to have changed from a lover to an 
enemy, for he shook the bare boughs in a 



ipje- most fierce, rude manner, till 
now and then one snapped and 



THE PUEPLE HYACINTH. 


27 


broke and came tumbling* and crash- 
ing to the ground. 

Flakes of snow f( 
russet leaves, and one 
dreary gray after- 
noon little Gretchen, 
watching the flying 
flakes, with her face 
pressed close against 
the window, was almost overjoyed at seeing her 
father coming up the garden-path. 

Papa, dear ! ” she cried, what ever made 
you think of coming home so early ? But I am 
so glad to see you, even if you are going to stay 
but a few minutes and then go back again.” 

No, my little girl, I am not going back to 
work to-day,” said Conrad as he put his dinner- 
pail on the table in the kitchen. I thought 
you were not feeling well when I went away this 
morning, and I have come home to have a little 
visit and make a fire for you.” 

Why, there is a fire in the stove, papa.” 

Yes, in the kitchen,” said Conrad, but 



28 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


the weather is getting so cold that we must have 
a fire in this room.’’ 

But we have no stove,” said Gretchen doubt- 
fully, as she glanced around the room, for young 
as she was she had learned to think of household 
expenses, and said, with the air of a mature house- 
keeper, and if we had one, I hardly think we 
could afford to burn so much coal.” 

We shall not need a stove, and we will soon 
have a beautiful fire without any coal,” and Con- 
rad gave her chair a playful shove. 

Is that a riddle, papa ? ” and she turned her 
great serious eyes toward him and added, ’Cause 
if it is, I can’t guess it.” 

No, it is no riddle, only a sur- 
prise for you. Just wait and see 
how it will be done.” 

Conrad had taken off his old 
gray coat and was at work with a 
hammer and chisel pulling off the 
boards that had been nailed under 
the high mantel-shelf that reached 
almost across one end of the room. 



THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


29 


As these boards had been papered like the rest 
of the room, and Gretchen had never seen a fire- 
place, she little imagined what was concealed 
behind the papered boards under the mantel- 
shelf. 

She watched her father with wide-eyed aston- 
ishment till the last board had been removed and 
the great black fireplace with its rusty old and- 
irons was revealed. Then her surprise broke forth 
in words. 

Did you know all these months that the 
chimney was there, papa? Why, it just only 
needs some stockings hung up to make it like 
a Christmas picture-book.’’ 

‘‘ Yes, I knew it was there, and as for the 
Christmas stockings, Gretchen, it will be only a 
few weeks until you can make it like the picture- 
books by hanging up your own and Louise’s. 
And the chimney is wide enough to let the fat- 
test old Santa Claus that ever carried a pack get 
through,” replied Conrad, as he swept down the 
soot from the sides of the fireplace and pro- 
ceeded to build a fire with a great pile of dry 


30 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


apple-wood which he had chopped from the 
fallen boughs. 

It was not long before a fire was roaring and 
sparkling up the chimney, and Gretchen, in bliss- 



ful delight, lay back in her chair and watched the 
ruddy blaze. 

There ! ” said Conrad, as he came in after an 
hour of sawing and chopping wood, and threw 
down a big armful in a box near the hearth. 

Now ^ mijn lieveling ’ will not be so lonely 
through these dull winter days.’’ 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 31 

He drew a stool near to Gretchen’s wheeled- 
chair, and sat down to watch the fire. 

Conrad was always tender and gentle with his 
little girls, but as Louise had once said, it was 
only when they were sick, or papa was in some 
way sorry, that he called them Holland sweet 
names,’’ and now he had called Gretchen a Dutch 
sweet name, mijn lieveling.^^ 

They were silent for a long time watching the 
fire, when Gretchen said : 

Oh, won’t Louise be s’prised when she sees 
the fire ; I can hardly wait for her to come home 
to-night. Do you know, papa, that sometimes I 
have been real lonely, since the winter came, 
’specially since Louise goes every day to the seed- 
house. But now I am sure I shall not be so lonely, 
the fire will burn and make me think stories.” 

And, as if suddenly reminded that this was a 
good time to hear one, she added beseechingly, 
^^Oh pa23a, tell me one now, something about 
Holland ; you promised you would the first day 
you had time, and this is just the right time 


now. 


32 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


Yes, I will tell you a story, and at the same 
time show you one,’’ said Conrad, leaving his seat 
and going to his bed-room. 

This seemed to be a day of surprises. What 
could her father mean by showing her a story, 
thought Gretchen, as she waited for him to come 
back, which he did in a few minutes, bringing 
with him a package carefully wrapped in thick 
paper. 

He resumed his seat on the stool 
near Gretchen, who watched him 
with breathless interest as he 
clumsily fumjbled with the knots 
of the string that tied the parcel. 

When these were loosened, 
and the paper removed, there 
was still another wrapping— a 
long strip of queer-looking red and blue silk, 
faded and dingy, as if it had been rolled and 
unrolled many times. 

Conrad unrolled it now very slowly, and dis- 
closed a book, most curiously and quaintly bound 
in gray linen. On the outside of the cover was 



THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


33 


painted a purple hyacinth. The hook looked old, 
hut the colors of the flower seemed brilliant and 
fresh. 

Here, Gretchen,” he said, holding the book 
toward her, is a wonderful story, truly a story 
of Holland.’’ 

Gretchen took the book and opened it with 
eager interest, but after scanning its pages for a 
moment she looked up in surprised disappoint- 
ment, saying, Why, I can’t read a word of it, it 
is not a printed book, it is all writing, and every 
word of that looks strange to me.” 

Yes, it is written in the Dutch language. You 
cannot read it, but I will tell you about it.” 

And Conrad laid another log on the fire, and 
began to tell Gretchen about ^^The Purple 
Hyacinth.” 



.3 



I HAVE told you and Louise so many times 
about the house, with its many pointed gables, 
where I lived when I was a boy, that there is 
no need telling it to you again. You know all 
about the red and yellow tiles set in around the 

doors and windows, and ” 

Yes, the windows that swung back on hinges,” 
interrupted Gretchen. seem to see it all just 
as plain as anything, and I never tire of hearing 
you tell about it. Is it there yet, papa, the funny, 
beautiful house with its queer peaked roof, and 
the long, long rows of tulips in the big tulip-garden, 
growing as common as onions do here in Rochester, 
is it all thf^re yet, and can we go some day to see 
it?” 

All no, Vjiretcnen, ' said Conrad, shading his 

eyes from the blaze of the fire, there is nothino- 
34 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


35 


there now; nothing but the hungry, sweeping 
sea.” 

Oh, papa, the house and beautiful garden, 
were they washed away ? ” said Gretchen in a 
hushed tone. And what became of your 
mamma and papa, and your little sister Louise, 
and the servants and farm-hands ? ” ’ 

They were all drowned, and swept away,” re- 
plied Conrad quietly. 

The sea covered everything ; the only keep- 
sakes I have that came from my home in Holland 
are the book and strip of faded silk lying there 
in your lap.” 

Poor papa ! ” — and Gretchen reached out her 
hand and touched him softly on his cheek. 

You see,” he said, as if anticipating Gretch- 
en’s next question, you see, my sister Louise 
and I had been making this book for our mother. 
W e intended to give it to her on her birthday ; 
purple hyacinths were her favorite flowers, and 
she said they brought good luck and happiness 
wherever they bloomed.” 

And is that the reason we always have 


36 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH, 


them?’’ asked Gretcheii, glancing toward the 
window, where there were several tall bulb- 
glasses with sprouting and budding hyacinths. 

I have always wondered, papa, why you 
seemed to like the sober-looking purple ones so 
much better than the lovely white or pink flowers. 
Now I know ; it is because they were your dear 
mamma’s favorite flowers.” 

Yes, and they are more fragrant than the 
pale white and pink blossoms ; my mother used 
to tell Louise and me a pretty fairy tale about 
three sisters, beautiful princesses, that lived in a 
stately castle. 

^^They were all beautiful singers, and on sum- 
mer evenings, dressed in their favorite robes — one 
in white, one in pink, and the other in purple — 
they walked arm in arm among the garden flowers 
and sang so sweetly that the rose unfurled her 
leaves, and the evening star bent down to listen. 

One evening as they sang, a huge winged 
monster came flying over the castle wall, and at- 
tempted to carry them away ; even he was af- 
fected by their singing, and paused to listen. 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


37 




The pink 
and the white ^ 

1 princesses ceased 
singing, and fled in 
to the castle ; 




the purple princess, | 
seeing > that her sisters 
could escape if she could but hold the attention 
of the monster, continued to sing until she heard 
the great doors of the castle clang as her sisters 
in safety passed through. 

Then, overcome by fright at finding herself 
alone, her sweet voice was hushed, and she sank 
fainting to the ground, changed into a purple 
flower, with breatli so sweet that it charmed all 
evil sprites and fairies, so that they could work 
no evil spells in the garden where she grew.” 


38 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


Oh, papa, what a pretty story ! ’’ exclaimed 
Gretchen, I shall always love the purple 
hyacinths best after this; and is that the story 
written here ? ” she asked, as she turned the 
leaves of the book. 

No, Louise and I each wrote a story about 
the flowers that grew in our garden, and as I 
had then had some lessons in drawing and water- 
color painting, I drew the pictures you see in the 
book, and painted the flower on the cover. 

‘‘1 was thirteen years old, Louise was two 
years younger. I thought myself quite a man, 
for my father often sent me on busi- 
ness for him to the neighboring 
towns. 

He had sent me on one of these 
errands, to take some letters, and a 
package of rare bulbs, to a seed-mer- 
chant in Haarlem. 

The seed-merchant — a Mr. Van 
Bergen — had a son about my own 
age, who had invited me to spend a week at his 
house ; my father had given his consent for me 



THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


39 


to do so, and I carried the book with me, to 
show it to my young friend, Kruseman van 
Bergen. 

The strip of silk was a piece of one of my 
mother’s dresses ; she wished me to get more like 
it at a silk-merchant’s. 

There were so many wonderful things to be 
seen in Haarlem that the week passed too 
quickly, and Kruseman had urged me to stay 
another week. 



Three days of this second week had slipped 
away when there came the terrible news that the 
sea had burst through the dykes and had washed 
away the entire village of Ter Kuille and all the 
surrounding farms.” 


40 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


Conrad paused in his story, for Gretchen had 
bowed her head on the arm of her chair and was 
sobbing softly. 

“ There, there, mijn lieveling,^^ said Conrad, 
patting her hand, don’t cry ; I know it is a sad, 
sad story, hut it happened many years ago, and the 
same sorrow came to so many others that I tried 
to hear mine as bravely as I could.” 

In a few minutes Gretchen looked up and asked : 
Did you ever go back? ” 

Go back ? Oh, no, there was nothing to go 
back to, only miles and miles of foaming, restless 
water.” 

What did you do then, papa ? ” 

I remained at the house of Kruseman van 
Bergen. All the family were very kind to me. 
Mr. Van Bergen gave me employment in his 
store. I stayed there for several years, and when 
the firm of which he was a member needed some 
one to assist in their business here in America, 
they sent me.” 

Could you speak any English then, papa ? ” 
No, not a word.” 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


41 


Then that is the reason why this book is all 
written in the Dutch language.’’ And Gretchen 
turned over the leaves thoughtfully as she said, 

Papa, dear, how you must love this book that 
you and your little sister made for your dear 
mother.” 

Yes, Gretchen, next to my two little girls it 
is the greatest treasure that I have. But, dear 
me,” said Conrad, suddenly getting up, while 
we have been talking it has grown dark. Louise 
will soon be home from the seed-house, and we 
must show her a good, bright fire,” and he went 
out to get more wood. 

Gretchen left her chair, and went slowly about 
on her crutches, making the preparation for sup- 
per that she usually did before Louise came 
home. 

The open fireplace with its glowing fire was 
not as much of a surprise to the matter-of-fact 
Louise as Gretchen had imagined it would be. 

In response to Gretchen’s lively exclamations 
Louise said, Oh, / knew it was there^all the 
time. I thumped on the wall and knew that 


42 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


there were only boards there, and not a bit of 
plaster.” 

Yes, but you don’t know about the strange 
lovely book with the purple flower 
painted on the cover,” said Gretchen 
triumphantly, as she showed Louise the 
book and repeated the story that her 
father had told her. 

She was our little aunt, and I was 
named for her,” said Louise medita- 
tively. Poor dear little girl,” and Louise did 
what seemed an unusual thing for her to do. 
She laid her cheek lovingly on the book, and then 
kissed the page where that other little Louise had 
written her name so many years ago. 




It was, as Conrad had said it woidd he when 
he built the fire in the big old fireplace, less 
lonely for Gretchen through the dull December 
days. 

She sat in her wheeled-chair in front of the 
fire, and Avith her tiny thimble and scissors sewed 
and snipped the threads and yarn as she mended 
her father’s shirts and stockings ; she busied her- 
self arranging her treasures in the little cabinet 
attached to the side of her chair ; the precious 
book carefully rolled in the strip of silk had a 
drawer all to itself, for she had begged to be 
allowed to keep it near her. Many times a day 
she took it from its wrappings to look at it and 
think about the story her father had told her. 

In the tall hyacinth-glasses flower-stalks were 


44 


THE PUKPLE HYACINTH. 


shooting up, and one was unfolding its purple 
bells. A faint fragrance came from it to Gretchen. 
With a smile and a nod toward it, she said, Dear 
Purple Princess, I know you, and love you, and I 
feel that your sweet breath is guarding me.” 

Christmas was approaching, the weather was 
very dull and cheerless, and, in spite of all that 
Gretchen could do to entertain herself^ the hours 
seemed to pass very slowly. 

One evening, as she sat waiting for her father 
and Louise to come, she fell to wishing. First she 
wished in her childish way for a 
lovely velvet suit for her father, 
and beautiful silk dresses for 
Louise and herself. Then, as her 
hand touched the book lying in 
her lap, she wished the fairy 
stories in the book that her father 
had translated for her would come true, or that 
the little bells attached to the stem of the hya- 
cinth gro.wing in the glass on the window-sill 
would ring or that fairies would come arid talk 
to her. 





THE PUEPLE HYACINTH. 


45 


She leaned back in her chair and strained her 
ear to catch some faint sound. She looked steadily 
into the fire for several minutes, and then a 
wonderful thing happened. 

She heard a strange, snapping little voice calling, 
Gretchen 1 Gretchen ! I know your name, 
you wished for us, and here we are.’’ 


Gretchen sat up very 
straight, and, pushing 
back her tangled hair, 
shaded her eyes with 
one thin little hand 
and looked toward 
the window. She had 
often wished that the 
winter wind would call 
her name and say some- 



thing to her, and she thought that at last he 
had spoken to her ; her heart was beating very 
fast, and her gray eyes looked very large and 
frightened, as she sat peering under her hand 
toward the window. 

If I do not answer him,” she thought, he 


46 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


may not speak to me again, anti besides he may 
think that I am afraid of him.” So, after waiting 
and listening for a moment, she called, in quite a 
brave voice : 

Wind, is that you? Wind, did you call 
Gretchen ? ” 

There was a sparkling little laugh, and the 
snapping voice answered. 

No, I’m not the wind.” 

The sound of her own voice 
inspired her with courage, and 
Gretchen asked, 

And where are 

I’m Yellow-breeches, and I’m 
here on the log. Can’t 
you see me ? ’* 

Gretchen 
turned h e r 
face from the 
window, and 
there on the 
log of apple- 



THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


47 


wood that she had laid on the andirons a few 
moments before she saw the funniest little sprite 
dancing’ and kicking up his heels, and doffing 
his cap in a most grotesque fashion. 

He was dressed in such brilliant yellow that it 
would seem as if all the marigolds of summer 
and the brightest leaves of autumn had combined 
their hues to make his glowing costume, and his 
cap was of a niost dazzling scarlet. 

When Gretchen first saw him she thought him 
grotesque and misshapen, but as her eyes became 
accustomed to the brightness of his dress he 
seemed to be slender and graceful, as he danced, 
and he was never for a moment quiet, and withal 
he looked so cheery and good-natured that 
Gretchen’s heart began to beat more quietly. 

Yes,” he said, as if continuing a conversation, 
you wished that we would come and talk to 
you, and here we are. I am Yellow-breeches, 
see how golden I am.” 

Golden ! ” exclaim.ed a piping voice from be- 
hind the log. Why, you are the brassiest sprite 
that ever danced.” 


48 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


This doubtful compliment seemed to delight 
Yellow-breeches, for he laughed and flung his 
arms over his head, danced and leaped, kicked 
his heels together with a crackling sound, and 
hounded over the log with rapid movements that 
made a myriad of sparks whirl around him for a 
moment, and then he sent them flying in showers 
up the chimney. 

Gretchen, after watching him for a few minutes, 
asked, Is there another one ? Who was it that 
spoke to you?” 

The one that called me brassy ? ” 

Yes.” 

Oh, she is Rosy-toes ; she’s our queen, very 
pretty, but very saucy, and, oh, so fickle ! Some- 
times she will dance with me until we are all 
tired out, and then at other times she just stays 
dowm behind the log and hovers around old 
Gray-locks.” 

Gray-locks ? ” queried Gretchen. And 
who is he ? ” 

Oh, he is the old fellow who stays after w^e 

are all tired out and have gone up the chimney. 

4 


THE PUKPLE HYACINTH. 


49 



You can see him down there under the logs. 
Look, do you see him ? ” Yellow-breeches made 
a wild leap and pointed under the log. 

Gretchen looked, and just 
where she had a minute before 
seen a pile of white ashes there 
sat a little old man with a peace- 
ful, happy face ; his white hair 
and beard were long and flow- 
ing, almost covering his gray 
cloak. 

Near him, swinging from a twig on the under 
side of the log, was a most beautiful little fairy 
that Gretchen recognized at once as Kosy-toes. 

As she swung there she seemed 
to be singing a sweet little song, 
and there came from all parts 
of the chimney echoes repeating the 
words that now became so distinct that 
Gretchen could hear them very plainly 
as Rosy-toes sang : 



Tl]^ Son^ 


of 

Music by WM. LORAINE. 




bring you wealth and Christ - mas cheer. With warmth and light The 

bring yon cheer I and my sprites. Whcr-e’er we dance No 





— ^ 1 1 

^ m ~T~ 




— * S ^ 1 

^ • M 

— M ^ ^ M 




1 ^ • 

V'l/ 

“! 1 ^ — 1 * — 



dark - est nijrht, 

e - vil glance, 

The dark -est night We make less drear; With 

.. No e - vil glance Shall o’er you creep, Nor 

1 ! _ , 1 


^ ^ 1 



1 1 — <• ' — 


9 OT 1 


H*— s- 


F7r\'^ - m> • 3~w“ 


9 9 !• ^ ^ • 

vU « ^ ^ 

m Tw ^ — 


• 1 — «• 

tr (® 

• 

' 1 1 

■s -s- 

»g- -f- 



m m 


i^y . . “ ! 


1 i r » 

: 1 ! 


1 • u r 

III A 

_ |_ 

— td 1 i 

LJ *«i«| — , ^ 

\ J ' 

^ 


1—- n“**i 1 1 ^ — 1 K 


* — m ^■ 


r ^ 0 


Tmr 1 m w ^ • mt — m— 


^ Ltf ! w 

VT? ^ m ^ m ^ ^ 

^ 1 ( ts— 

^ 1 

laugh and dash. And brightest flash,Yoi 
win - try sprite Shall you affright, So 

/■ —f) 1^ 1 1 Ike 1 k- 

1 see us here With 
3weet.ly sleep, Whih 

.^- J ^ 

spark - ling clash. With 
3 we to-night, While 

/ Tf-W — ^ 

US 1 ^ 

"i ^ • m 

m * <5 ^ i 

- eJ m ^ J g 

^ * v! * 9( 





^M' 

•i r.- .-- W g. m m_ m 

y . \w m 

m 

1* 

- 

1 -i ' 1 ! i 

W m ^ 



1 ! * ^ 


^ 1 r S S 

KTT-I ^ ^ 1 w 



1 r • 


' A 


1 r 1 

_ « . 





CJ 

d U' 



52 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


While Rosy-toes was still singing, and the 
fairies from every corner of the old chimney 
and fireplace were sweetly echoing her words, 
Yellow-breeches slid down from the top of the 
log, and in the most familiar manner slipped his 
arm around her waist, and danced back again, 
laughing, waving his scarlet cap, and singing 
with her the words of 
her song, While w^e 

to night our revels 
>> 

Encircled some- 
times by his arm, but 
oftener alone, she 
danced, flitting 
quickly past him and 
around him ; then 
under and over the 
logs, sometimes entirely disappearing, only to 
return again more beautiful than ever. 

And, oh, how beautiful she was ! She was 
like a cloud at sunset ; her dress was rosy purple 
and blue ; her feet were shod with rose-colored 




THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


53 


shoes ; her hair was like floating, waving masses 
of moonbeams and sunshine commingled. 

Gretchen looked at Gray-locks to see if he 
seemed sad at having his charming visitor so 
suddenly snatched away from him, but instead of 
looking sad, his face was bright, and his hair and 
beard had assumed quite a rosy tinge ; he was 
looking up at the dancers as if he enjoyed the 
gay frolic as much as they did. 

Reassured by his happy look, Gretchen pres- 
ently asked, Gray-locks, do you never dance ? ’’ 
He turned his face toward her, and in a soft, 
rustling voice, like loosened sand slipping down a 
hill-side, replied, No, I never dance. But when 
the wind meets me and gives me one of his ter- 
rible shakes, I fly ; I fly like a gray cloud and 
come down all of a tremble, leaving bits of 
my gray cloak and white beard wherever I 
stop.” 

Ah,” he said, growing quite pale, have 
covered up a great many.” 

A great many what ? ” asked Gretchen. 

Dancers,” he replied. 


54 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


They dance themselves out, and when the 
frolic is ended they drop down exhausted on my 
lap. I spread my cloak over them, and soon 
no one knows or remembers. New ones take 
their places whenever a new log is brought 
in, and the same thing happens over and over 
again.’’ 

Don’t you grow weary having it always the 
same ? ” asked Gretchen. 

Oh no,” said he, I have been doing the same 
thing for so many years that I am very content. 
The faster they dance, and the more beautiful 
they look, pleases me, for then I know that my 
cloak will be larger as I spread it over them. 
My cloak and beard grow as they dance. Now 
there is Blue-nose,” he continued, looking 
several shades less pale, as he again looked up 
toward the dancers. She usually sits at the end 
of the log hissing and sputtering, complaining 
and remembering things that used to be, until 
she makes herself very dull. Sometimes she 
makes such dismal fuss that the dancers all stop 
and fall down in my lap or go up the chimney. 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


55 


I hear her murmurings, but I don’t pay much 
attention ; there, there, she is at it now, do you 
hear her ? ” 

Gretchen perceived that a sad gray pallor had 
settled over Gray-locks. 

Rosy-toes had hidden aAvay behind the logs, 
and Yellow-breeches with one defiant bound 
sprang up the chimney. 

Gretchen listened and looked toward the end 
of the log where some sap was oozing out with a 
hissing, murmuring sound, that seemed to say. 
Oh, yes, run away if you want to, fly up chimney 
or hide under the logs if you will, I don’t mind 
being left alone.” 

Gretchen looked intently at a little wavering 
violet-colored flame that hovered around the end 
of the log, and wondered where the scolding fairy 
could be hiding ; at last she said Are you Blue- 
nose ? and why do you stay back there, complain- 
ing and grumbling ? Why do you not come out 
and dance with the others ? ” 

Sometimes I do,” murmured the voice, but 
usually it is too much trouble.” 


5(3 


THE PUKPLE HYACINTH. 


Just then a gust of wind swept down the 
chimney, making Gray-locks fly about in every 
direction, while Blue-nose, with a slow gliding 
movement, came into view at the end of the log. 
’ Gretchen clapped her hands and exclaimed, 
Why, how beautiful you are 1 I thought from 
the way the others spoke of you that you 
must be very ugly, but you are all in r, 

green and violet, with flashes and streaks 
of gold like a rainbow,” and Gretchen 
looked Avith admiration at the gleam of 
red gold that glimmered about the high- 
pointed cap that Blue-nose wore. 

The compliment seemed to please 
her, for she wavered a moment, and 
then with slow, stately grace be- 
gan to move along the log, as if ^ 
dancing a slow measure. 

As she did so her cloak 
seemed to change color, 
and as it trailed along the 
log it became a vivid 
emerald green. 



THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 57 

In an instant Rosy-toes appeared, and just as 
suddenly Yellow-breeches made his appearance; 
they all danced together for a moment, Rosy-toes’ 
wondrous hair floating like a sunset cloud about 
her, at times almost hiding Yellow-breeches and 
Blue-nose from sight. 

Suddenly there was a sound of footsteps in 
the porch ; the outside door opened to admit 
Conrad and Louise, there was a puff of wind, a 
scurrying and crackling, a great shower of sparks 
flying up the chimney, a flash of color from 
Rosy-toes’ bright skirts, an echo of her song, 

Tho’ chimney dark 
May hide our spark 
We linger near 

And the logs all tumbled together in a glowing 


mass. 



Gretchen tried vainly to catch a glimpse 
of one of the bright fairies again during that 
evening. 

While Louise was raking and brushing the hot 
ashes away to make a clean place on the hearth 
for the potatoes to roast for supper, Gretchen 
wondered if Gray-locks liked having his cloak all 
pushed about in that manner ; and when she was 
holding the slices of bread in the long toaster 
over the coals she almost expected to see Yellow- 
breeches dart out from some sooty corner and 
dance away with a slice of toast. 

Once when Conrad had placed a fresh stick of 
wood across the irons she heard the voice of Blue- 
nose, murmuring and in a minor key chanting 

her song: 

58 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


59 


Once I was a beautiful tree, 

With branches waving and slender ; 

My dress was made of the quivering leaves, 
All green in the sunlight shimmer. 


Gretclien looked, and saw Blue-nose moving 
slowly along, and spreading her wonderful em- 
erald robe in trailing folds behind her. 

Oh, Louise, look quick ! ” cried Gretchen, 
There is Blue-nose ! ’’ 

Where ? asked the incredulous Louise. 

At the end of the log, 
don’t you see her ? She 
has a cloak like the blue 
and green of the rainbow, 
with the red and gold 
colors for a slender line of 
trimming here and there. 
Don’t you see?” and 
Gretchen pointed excited- 
ly with her finger. 

Louise was now not less 
intent than Gretchen, and 
Conrad, who had heard part of what Gretchen had 



60 


THE PUKPLE HYACINTH. 


said, leaned forward and gazed in the direction 
that she pointed.. 

No, I don’t see anything but a little smoky 
flame where the wood doesn’t burn well,” said 
Louise. 

Hark, you can hear her singing her murmur- 
ing song,” and Gretchen raised her finger. 

^^ It is only the sap, frying out of the wood,” 
said Conrad, knocking the ashes out of his pipe. 
^^Do you know, papa,” said Louise eagerly, 
that Gretchen has the oddest way of making 
b’lieve she sees and hears things. Last summer she 
used to tell me the most ridiculous things about the 
flowers, and one day she made me run as fast as 
ever I could around to the other end of the house 
so that she could show me some children running 
after each other, and playing Hag’ — up in the 
clouds ; and when I got there I couldn’t see any 
children playing ^ tag,’ there was just only a 
hump-backed cow like we saw that day at the 
park.” 

Conrad laughed heartily, and said, Why, 
Louise, it seems to me that you are given to see- 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 61 

ing queer things in the clouds as well as 
Gretclien.’’ 

Yes, but Gretchen sees them everywhere ; she 
makes things talk to her that can’t talk. She 
says there are fairies in the fire that dance, and 
sing about bringing her good luck,” and Louise 
gave her shoulders a contemptuous shrug. 

The fairies came and sang the song,” said 
Gretchen quietly. I remember the words, and,” 
she added with a little sigh of content, believe 
that the song is truer 

The next day, after her father and Louise had 
gone away to their work, and her household tasks 
were all done, Gretchen laid some logs on the 
smouldering fire, and waited in confident expect- 
ation for the reappearance of her bright-hued 
visitors. 

The hours passed away, and only a tiny tongue 
of flame here and there played around the logs, 
but nothing that looked like the fire-fairies of the 
day before. 

She was beginning to feel a little disappointed 
and lonely, for the day was nearly gone ; it was 


62 


THE PUKPLB HYACINTH. 


growing dark. She had eaten her supper, and 
arranged the table for her father, for he had said 
that he should be late, and, seated in her favorite 



place, had taken the Holland book from its 
drawer, was turning its leaves and wondering 
about the queer pictures and Dutch words, when 
there seemed to be some unusual commotion at 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 63 

the top of tlie chimney. Gretchen closed the book 
and listened. 

They are having a battle/’ said a husky, 
trembling voice that she recognized at once as 
that of Gray docks. 

A battle, did you say ? ” and the little girl 
leaned forward toward the pile of ashes on tlie 
hearth. It was some time before she could see 
anything that resembled the little old man, with 
the gray cloak and flowing white beard, and 
when at last she could see him, he appeared to be 
all of a tremble, and was drawing his cloak 
closely about him. 

Thinking that he had not heard her, Gretchen 
asked again, ^^Who are having a battle?” 

The pile of ashes seemed to sway toward her, 
as the little old man stretched his head up from 
the folds of his robe and replied : 

Our people, the fire-fairies, you know, and 
the snow-fairies. Smoke-wreath, and the wind. 
Oh, indeed, it is quite dreadful ; it shakes me all 
to pieces.” And he fluttered on the hearthstone. 


64 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 




still nearer to the corner 
where Gretchen had drawn 
her chair. 

There was such a roar- 
ing and hissing at the top 
of the chimney, and Yel- 
low-breeches was no w 
springing up and down with 
such a noisy crackling, that 
Gretchen had to bend down 
and listen very attentively 
as Gray-locks said: ^^You 
see Smoke-wreath is the one who always keeps 
guard at the top of the chimney ; he and the 
wind are always quarrelling, and yet they seem 
to get along pretty well together after all, unless 
the wind gets angry as he is to-night, and then he 
drives Smoke- wreath right down here amongst us, 
and — oh, dear, here he comes now^ ! ” — and with 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


65 


a wheezing, puffing little cough, Gray-locks drew 
his cloak over his head and threw himself flat on 
the hearth. And driven by a great puff of smoke 
Yellow-breeches seized Kosy-toes in his arms and 
leaped quite out to Gretchen’s feet, who sprang 
back in alarm. 

Then in a moment all was quiet, and Blue-nose 
wailed in a hissing, sputtering voice, Oh, dear, 
’s-s-s — ’s-s-s — ’s ! The wind is helping the fairies 
of the snow to-night, and we shall be put out, the 
snow people will come in and cover us over — 
’s-s-s — ’s-s — ’s-s ! ” And Blue-nose trailed slowly 
over the log, hissing and wailing her dismal 
prophecy. 

But almost instantly Yellow-breeches, Eosy- 
toes, and countless other little figures like them, 
came dancing down the chimney, filling the 
entire room with their brilliant light, and send- 
ing showers of glowing sparks flying upward as 
they laughed and danced and sang in conquering 
glee — 


66 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 




Where’er we dance 
No evil glance, 

No evil glance, 

Nor wintry sprite, 
Shall you affright. 

So sweetly sleep, 
While we to-night. 
While we to-night 

Our revels keep.” 


Blue-nose ceased to wail ^ 
and danced her graceful ^ V 
minuet at the end of the log. 

Grey-locks unfurled his cloak- 
and sat smiling placidly. Smoke- 
wreath had again floated up to 
the chimney-top, where he crooned his low song 
of content as he eddied and circled, up-borne by 
the breath of the wind that had now grown more 
gentle. 

The logs tumbled together in a mass of glow- 



•i 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


67 


ing embers, and, as Gray-locks had said it would 
happen, the dancers had danced themselves out. 

Gretchen, too, was tired ; she drew a shawl 
around her, leaned hack in her chair, and turned 
her face toward, the window. 

The air was growing chilly, and outside the 
window panes she could see the winged snow- 
flakes flying thick and fast ; they seemed to 
take strange shapes, pressing against the glass 
and then flying away again. 


It was Christmas Eve, and 
the time seemed long to 
Gretchen, waiting for her father 
and Louise to come home. 
She knew that they would be 



^ later than usual, for Louise had 
^ gone to take supper with one of 
her mates, and afterward to a 
Christmas-tree festival, and Con- 
rad had some extra work to do 


at the nursery-garden and greenhouses. 

The air grew more chilly, the house seemed 
very quiet and lonely, and dear, brave, happy- 


68 


THE PUIIPLE HYACINTH. 


hearted little Gretclien stided back a half sigh 
that had begun to flutter from her heart, and 
quickly brushed away a tear that trembled on her 
eyelashes. For the purple hyacinth had opened 
several of its tiny bells and its fragrance seemed 
to fill the room. As the perfume of the purple 
flower came stealing to her, Gretchen said : 

Dear Purple Princess, I know you, I love 
you, and your sweet breath guards me.’’ And 
with this the little girl nestled more snugly in her 
shawl and fell into a sweet, contented sleep. 





The flying figures that Gretchen had seen at 
the window came thicker and faster every mo- 
ment. 

Feather-flake, Star-flake, and Crystal, the beau- 
tiful fairies of the snow, were circling, floating, 
and whirling everywhere in their bewildering 
beauty, shaking from their robes myriads of 
tiny jewels that formed a fleecy, white covering 
for everything they fell upon. 

Frosty-nip, a mischievous imp who was always 
dancing after them, glittered and sparkled here 
and there, never for a moment still, but always 
springing at a chance to play some trick. 

He pinched the ears of the boys and girls on 

their way to school, and nipped the nose of the 
69 


70 THE PUEPLE HYACINTH. 

gravest deacon in the town, bit the 
cheeks of the pretty girls, and almost 
at the same instant he would squeeze 
himself through' the crack of some 
door to do some mischief. 

He thrust his meddlesome fingers 
through the tiniest cracks in the 
windows, and tweaked the buds and 
leaves of any plant that came within his reach. 

While Feather-flake, Star-flake, and Crystal, with 
their long train of sister fairies, had been circling 
around and over the old yellow house, powdering 
the trees, the roof, the old stone steps and the 
window sills with a thick soft covering of snow, 
Frosty-nip had spied Gretchen, and he tried at 
every door and window to find a crack where 
he could squeeze through and give her a sly 
pinch. 

Two or three times he was almost in the room, 
but the warmth and brightness of the dancing 
fire-fairies had driven him back. 

Ah,” he said, dancing up to the window and 
peeping in, I think I’ll venture now ; those fire- 



THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


71 


sprites are hiding up in the chimney, or else they 
have fallen asleep. Here’s a nice little hole 
where the glass is broken,” and in 
a twinkling he crept in and went 
skipping and dancing around the 
room. 

Just as he was creeping up to 
Gretchen, and reaching out to pinch 
her hand which lay outside the 
folds of her shawl, Feather-flake floated grace- 
fully to the window, and looked in to see what 
mischief he was up to. In a twinkling she 
shook a pile of soft feathery snow on the window 
sill till it came up against the glass, completely 
covering the little hole where Frosty-nip had 
crept in. 

She beckoned to Crystal and Star-flake, her 
sister fairies, and as they circled in front of the 
window, she said, “ Come, let us bring happy 
dreams and good fortune to the pretty child that 
is sleeping there ; Frosty-nip, the imp, cannot 
harm her. You see, the fire and the purple 
flower keep guard as she sleeps.” 



72 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


Feather-flake said all this more in waving, cir- 
cling gestures than in words, and Crystal and 
Star-flake gave assent in the same way, as they 
whirled away, with their long train of feathery, 
starry snow-flake fairies following them. 

Frosty-nip, who in his mischievous antics had 
ventured too near the magic breath of the purple 
flower, had been glad to find a crack under the 
door, through which he had crept out, and was 
again in close attendance. 

Away they all went, over the tops of the apple- 
trees, down the country lane, over the meadow 
where the blue flowers had blossomed, on, on in 
their frolicsome flight, right into the town, where 
the street lamps set them all a-glistening like 
jewels. 

Suddenly they paused and circled in front of a 
large handsome house, where brilliant lights shone 
from every window and a burst of delicious 
music was heard every time the great hall door 
opened to receive the guests. 

Prancing horses with their jingling bells were 
bringing sleigh loads of gaily dressed ladies and 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


73 


gentlemen, who laughed merrily as they went up 
the steps, shaking off the jeweled powder with 
which the fairies were sprinkling them. 

The scene was so bright and gay that the 
belated shoppers, hurrying homeward with their 
Christmas bundles, paused for a moment to look 
and to listen. 

Conrad, who had been delivering some flowers 
at a house on that street, was on his way home, 
but not with Christmas packages in his hands. 

Poor Conrad, who had worked so long and 
late to earn some extra money, that his little girls 
might each have some pretty, simple Christmas 
gifts, was tired, empty-handed, and disappointed. 

The overseer at the greenhouses had been 
taken ill the day before, and none of the work- 
men were to be paid until the next week. 

There seemed no need of hurrying home, Con- 
rad thought, as he plodded along through the 
thickly falling snow-flakes, and, like others, he 
stopped for a moment at the edge of the side- 
walk. 

Frosty-nip seemed to be everywhere at the same 


74 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


moment ; he gave Conrad a thrilling pinch just in 
the back of his neck, and then suddenly turned 
his malicious attention to the horses attached to 
a sleigh where two ladies, unassisted by any gentle- 
man, were getting out. 

A stinging bite on the nose of one horse, and 
a smart pinch on the ear of the other, made them 
both dash forward, and then as suddenly rear and 
plunge backward, their driver seeming to have 
no power to control them. 

The elder of the two ladies 
was out of the sleigh, and 
safely on the sidewalk, but 
the younger one was thrown 
violently to the ground, di- ; 
rectly in front of Conrad, 
and the frantic horses in an- 
other instant would have 
trampled her under their 
hoofs if he had not sprung forward and seized 
her, lifting her out of danger as quickly and 
easily as though she were a- child. 

But not so quick, however, that he escaped with- 



THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


75 


out a bruise. One of the prancing, rearing horses 
struck him on the hand, tearing away a strip of 
skin, and making an ugly and somewhat painful 
wound. 

The ladies thanked him for his brave act, and 
the elder one was saying, Come, come, Marie, 
you must not linger here in this piercing cold a 
moment longer.” 

Marie, fumbling in the pockets of her long fur 
coat, again thanked Conrad, and was reluctantly 
following her mother up the steps, when she sud- 
denly turned back and thrust a few silver coins 
into his hand, saying hastily, I am ashamed 
to ofPer you this, it is so little, but it ’s all I 
have with me. Won’t you please tell me your 
name, that I may send you a Christmas 
gift ? ” 

Conrad had never before accepted money that 
he had not earned, and for an instant he hesitated 
to take this, and only the thought of the disap- 
pointment of Gretchen and Louise made him 
accept it. 

Before he could make any reply to the young 


.76 


THE PUKPLE HYACINTH. 


lady’s question her mother again called im- 
patiently, 

Come this instant, Marie ; do not loiter there.” 
Marie, not daring or wishing to disobey, fol- 
lowed her mother up the steps. 




Feather-flake, Star-flake, and Crystal, hov- 
ered over Marie, sprinkling her with snow- 
flakes as fast as they could scatter them, followed 
her up the steps, and just as the door was about 
to open Frosty-nip danced up the steps and gave 
her a quick pinch on one of her pretty pink ears. 

Oh ! ’’ she exclaimed, as she put up her hand. 
Frosty-nip sprang to the other side, and the 
snow-fairies all whirled around her in a dance of 
great glee. 

Quick ! Quick ! ” exclaimed Star-flake. Pinch 
her again before she gets in where it is warm. 
Don’t hurt her very much, but make her thinkr 
‘‘ Yes, make her think,” echoed Feather-flake, 
as she scattered a shower of snow on Marie’s up- 
lifted hand. 

77 


78 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


We have promised to bring happy dreams 
and good-fortune to the little lame girl lying 
asleep in the old house where the purple flower 
breathes. And this young lady with the pretty 
pink ears and white hands shall be the one to 
carry the gifts to the lame child. Quick, pinch 
her again, and make her think.” 

The saucy Frosty-nip needed no urging. He 
pinched and pulled Marie’s ears ; he bit her on 
her rosy chin ; he crept under a tiny curl at the 
back of her neck and sent a dozen queer little 
shivers running over her shoulders and down her 
back. 

Marie uttered a little scream as she fled through 
the hall-door that opened to receive her. 

I am afraid that you have taken cold, 
Marie,” said her mother as they took off their 
cloaks in the dressing-room. But, dear me, 
what have you gotten on your dress ? ” she 
exclaimed, looking at several tiny bright red 
spots on the side of Marie’s pretty white silk 
dress. 

Why,” she said, examining them, it is 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


79 


blood. That poor man must have hurt his hand 
when he snatched you from under the horses’ 
feet. But never mind/’ she said consolingly, as 
she saw a thoughtful look creep over Marie’s face. 

Never mind, I can pin the dress over in a fold 
so that the spots will not be noticed.” 

But Marie was not thinking of her party dress, 
but of the poor man who had so bravely saved 
her life. And other strange half-formed thoughts 
that she could not account for flitted through her 
brain. 

Marie and her mother entered the gay ball- 
room, and as soon as they had greeted their 
hostess, and Marie saw her mother engaged in 
conversation with a group of ladies, she slipped 
quietly out of the parlor and upstairs to the 
dressing-room. 

She hastily threw her long fur cloak 
around her, and while she was putting on her 
overshoes, she said to one of the waiting-maids : 

Here is my mother’s long, warm cloak, wrap 
yourself in it quickly, and come with me for a few 
moments.” 


80 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 



The maid, thinking from Marie’s excited man- 
ner that some unusual adventure was in store for 
her, did as Marie bade her, and unobserved and 
unquestioned they glided down the stairs and out 
into the snowy night. 

The blood had flowed so freely from Conrad’s 
wounded hand that at every step a great crimson 
drop fell on the snowy sidewalk and plainly 
marked the way he went. 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


81 


The snow-fairies were still floating about, but 
had ceased scattering their flakes, and, as if they 
were waiting for her to come out, they circled 
around Marie as soon as the hall-door had closed 
behind her and the maid. 

For just a moment 
Marie paused as she came 
down the great stone 
steps, uncertain which 
way to go ; then, as if 
a gleam of starry light 
had flashed before her, 
she seemed to see the 
beautiful fairies of the 
snow flying before her 
and beckoning her to 
follow. 

Yes, surely this is the way,” she said, speak- 
ing more to herself than to the maid walking 
beside her, all muffled in the big fur cloak, for 
here are great drops of blood on the snow from 
the poor man’s wounded hand. And I did not 
know that he was hurt. Oh, how heartless and 



82 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


cruel lie must have thought me to have left him 
standing there in the bitter cold of this night, 
while I in my selfishness hastened in where it was 
all light and warmth ! And to think that I gave 
him only a few cents. It is true it was all the 
money I had with me, but — oh, dear, I do hope 
we may overtake him.” And Marie, almost sob- 
bing with remorse, quickened her steps. She 
had never walked so fast ; the maid had almost 
to run to keep pace with her. 

The street lamps became fewer and dimmer, 
and the handsome houses were left behind, for 
they were now in a humble part of the city, 
where there were only small shops and dingy 
factories. 

The blood drops showed plainly on the snow, 
and once or twice where it might have seemed 
darkest there gleamed for a brief instant the 
strange starry light, and there seemed again to be 
a glimpse of the beautiful circling snow figures. 

Suddenly the crimson drops disappeared from 
the snow, just at the door of a small toy-shop, 
and through the windows Marie saw Conrad. 


THE PURPLE . HYACINTH. 83 

she exclaimed joy- 
ously, here he is ! ’ ’ 

If the pinches of Frosty-nip 
had made her think, her de- 
sire to do an act of kind- 
ness in the most delicate way 
possible made her think quick- 
ly of the best way to do it. 
She entered the shop — the 
maid following her — and stood for a moment as 
if she were examining some toys. 

A bright, pleasant-looking young woman came 
from the back part of the shop where Conrad 
stood looking longingly and regretfully at some 
story-books and work-boxes that seemed all too 
expensive for him to buy with the few coins which 
he still held in his hand. 

What can I show you, miss ? ’’ asked the 
young saleswoman, looking in some surprise at 
Marie’s rich dress and costly cloak, for not many 
wealthy shoppers ever came to this shabby little 
store. 

Marie replied, The man standing there look- 



84 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


iiig at those books has done me a great service 
to-night, for which I am anxious to show my 
gratitude ; can I trust you to help me ? ’’ 



The little shopwoman looked surprised, and in 
low tones Marie related briefly what had happened, 
and then handing her card she said, If you will 
give me your aid, I shall indeed be grateful to 
you.’’ 


THE PUEPLE HYACINTH. 


85 


A glance at the name engraved on the card 
was sufficient to win a ready assent from the 
young woman, without any further urging or ex- 
planation, for Marie was known by all the trades- 
people as the richest heiress in Rochester. 

^^Find out who he is, where he lives, and how 
many he has in his family,’’ said Marie, speaking 
in eager, rapid tones. 

Ah, miss, I already know all that, because 
my brother works at the same greenhouse with 
him. He has only two little girls, and indeed, 
miss, I think he is very poor, for he seems per- 
plexed about what he shall select for them, he 
has so little money.” 

^^Advise him as well as you can about a choice 
of presents,” said 
Marie, and remem- 
ber what things he 
would like most ta buy 
for his children. Then 
as soon as he has gone put all those things 
in a basket with other books and pretty toys, 
candy, nuts, and some of all the Christmas goodies 



86 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


that you have in your store, and send them as 
quickly as possible to his house. Don’t be spar- 
ing of anything that is nice or good, and I will 
come to-morrow morning and pay you for them. 
And I will pay you extra if you could send tliem 
by so swift a messenger that the basket shall be 
sitting on his doorstep when he reaches home.” 

I think I can manage to do it, miss,” said the 
little woman, her eyes sparkling with delight at the 
thought of the good sale she was making of her 
Christmas wares at this late hour, when there was 
not much chance of having many customers. 

And his poor wounded hand, can you in any 
way manage to have that bound up and cared 
for?” asked Marie anxiously. 

Yes, miss ; my brother, who met him on the 
street and came in 
with him, has already 
tied it up in a’ handker- 
chief, and is now in 
our kitchen, back of the 
shop getting some salve, for Conrad, I think that 
is his name, to take home with him.” 



THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


87 





Marie gave another hasty 
direction to the little shop- 
woman, and was about to 
leave the shop when the 
little woman ran after her 
and said in a whisper — look- 
ing at the card which she 
still held in her hand — 
Shall I send this card 
with the things ? ” 

“ Oh no, not for anything, 
that would be cheating the 
Christmas fairies,’’ Marie 
exclaimed laughingly. And 
then, as if a sudden, happy 
idea had come to her, she 
took a blank card from her 
cardcase and wrote on it : 

A merry Christmas from 
the Snow Fairies.” 

^^Here,” she said, ^^put 
this in the basket, and now 
good-night.” 


88 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


The waiting-maid, who seemed as happy as 
Marie and the little shopkeeper, opened the door, 
and they hurried through the streets — that were 
almost deserted now — back to the great house, 
and sped unobserved up to the dressing-rooms. 

In a few moments more Marie was in the gay 
ball-room, dancing merrily with the other guests, 
her cheeks aglow from her walk in the keen night 
air, her eyes sparkling with happiness over the 
success of her adventure. 

She looked so bright and happy that it was no 
wonder that some one said of her that she looked 
like a beautiful flower.” 



Louise had come home with a neighbor from 
the Christmas-tree festival, and had found 
Gretchen just awakening from her sleep in the 
chair. 

Oh, Louise,” she cried, sitting up, I have 
had such a beautiful dream ! The fairies are 
bringing us good-luck.” 

Humph ! I’ve brought you a stick of candy, 
and I didn’t eat a crumb of the one they gave 
me for myself, so ’s we could eat them together,” 
said Louise, as she proudly unrolled two sticks of 
pink and white taffy. The candy is real and 
the fairies ain’t.” 

Oh yes, they are,” asserted Gretchen, the 
fire-fairies that sing and dance and the beautiful 
snow-fairies that float and whirl.” 

Snow-fairies, did you say ? ” asked Louise, 

munching her candy. 

89 


90 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


^^Yes, they came to the window, and I saw 
them,” said Gretchen inipressively. 

^^Well, I just about half believe you now,” 
admitted Louise, somewhat reluctantly, ^^for I 
thought that I saw them flying all around and 
shaking feathers down when I was going to the 
festival.” 

Louise looked silently into the Are for a mo- 
ment ; then, suddenly beginning to untie her shoes, 
she said : 

Come, let’s hang up our stockings and put our 
shoes in the chimney-corners and go to bed, and 
if there are fairies we will find something nice 
here to-morrow morning.” 

Good-night, beautiful Purple Princess,” said 
Gretchen a few moments later, as she and Louise 
in their bare feet pattered across the floor on 
their way to bed. 

I think the flower must have heard and an- 
swered you, for the perfume reaches us even 
here,” said Louise, as she and Gretchen tucked 
themselves into their blankets. 

The brisk little shopwoman carried out Marie’s 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 



instructions so well that when Conrad reached 
the old yellow house that night there in the 
old porch on the doorstep stood a big, heavy 
basket. 

As he lifted it into the room the fire flamed 


92 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


up and showed him the inscription on the 
card. 

Well, well,’’ he exclaimed to himself, ^^Snow 
Fairies ! Why, I have seemed to see. them every- 
where to-night.” 

He stole softly to the little girls’ room, and 
there they were both sound asleep. So he seated 



himself in front of the fire and examined the con- 
tents of the basket. 

It did indeed seem like the work of fairies, for 
here were the very books, Avork-boxes and hair 
ribbons that he had looked at so longingly for 
his little girls only a few moments before. 

Wondering how it could have happened that 
these things were here, he took from his pockets 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


93 


the few small things that he 
had bought, and put them in 
the stockings and stout little 
shoes that the children had 
placed to receive the fairy 
gifts. 

Still pondering over the 
basket of gifts and the card 
with its message, — A merry 
Christmas from the Snow Fair- 
ies,” he thought of the fire-fairies that Gretchen 
talked so much about. And smiling to himself he 
wrote on some slips of paper which he placed in 
each pair of shoes and stockings : 

Good luck, and a merry Christmas from the 
fire-fairies.” 

Christmas morning dawned clear and beautiful, 
and at an early hour Marie and her mother 
got into their handsome sleigh with its fur rugs 
and robes, and away they went, the sleigh-bells 
ringing a merry chime on the clear frosty air. 

I can’t imagine what madcap whim you 
have gotten into your head, Marie, that you order 



94 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


the horses and sleigh out at this early hour/’ said 
Marie’s mother as they started. 

Why, mamma, ten o’clock is not so very early, 
and the morning is so beautiful. And you know, 
mamma,” said Marie coaxingly, that you prom- 
ised last night when we were going home from 
the party that you would just let me have my own 
way to-day.” 

Yes, I know I did,” responded her mother, 
but I did not think 
that you were going 
to bring me out to 
ride so early, and in 
this shabby part of 
the city too,” she said, 
as they stopped in 
front of the little toy- 
shop. 

Why, Marie ! ” she exclaimed, as she saw 
Marie preparing to get out. 

’Sh, mamma,” said Marie, laughing and hold- 
ing up her finger in playful warning. I owe a 
tremendous bill here at this shop, for cakes and 



THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


95 


candy ^nd a lot of things I bought last night.” 
And Marie darted into the shop, where, to her 
mother^s surprise, the shopwoman and Marie 
seemed to be well acquainted, for through the 
dingy windows she could see them smiling and 
nodding and talking to each other like old friends. 

^^Well, indeed, Marie, I must say that you 
choose some remarkable acquaintances,” said her 
mother rather impatiently, as Marie waved her 
hand to the little shopwoman and tucked herself 
in the sleigh again. 

There, there, mamma dear, don’t scold ; now 
that I have something to tell you, I will 
confess everything.” 

The driver had already received his 
instructions from Marie, and he 
turned the horses’ heads in the 
direction of the old yellow 
house. 

Now and then a great pearly 
crystal flake fell on Marie, or 
a little flurry of feathery snow 
flashed past them as they sped 




96 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


along, showing that the snow-fairies were hover- 
ing near. 

Frosty-nip — although he behaved very well — 
could not resist tweaking the driver’s nose once 
or twice and giving Marie’s stately mother just 
one sly little pinch on the cheek. 

Marie had scarcely finished telling her mother 
of last night’s adventure when they arrived at 
the old house. 



There are no words to describe the surprise 
and joy of Louise and Gretchen as they unfolded 
each Christmas package and placed the things in 
a circle on a table which had been drawn near to 
Gretchen’s chair. 

They were still busy arranging and rearrang- 
ing these fairy gifts when Marie and her mother 

entered the room. 

7 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


97 


ff 


\i 


I am sent by the snow-fairies to wish you 
a merry Christmas ’’ was Marie’s cheery greeting. 

Both of the children were 
for a moment surprised, but 
Marie seemed to know just 
what to say to win her way 
to the hearts of children, and 
in a moment more Gretchen 
and Louise were talking with 
her as freely as if they had 
known her for a long time. 

Marie’s mother, too, grew 
interested, and drawing her 
chair near to the table she 
examined the pretty gifts, 
which Gretchen gravely as- 
sured her had come from her 



friends the fairies. 

Gretchen is always seeing fairies, or imagin- 
ing that she is, and I never b’lieved in them till 
last night,” said Louise, but now I’m just as 
sure about them as anything, ’cause these things 
axe very ’spensive. I know, for I used to stop a 
few minutes every day on my way home from the 


98 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


seed-house, and look at a work-box in a shop 
window. It was just like this one, all blue velvet 
inside, and thimble and scissors and tape measure, 
and spools of ’broidery silk, and oh, hoio I did 
wish that Gretchen could have it ! I didn’t tell 
papa a word about it, and Gretchen didn’t either, 
’cause we knew it would make him feel sorry that 
he could not get it for her. But there it was in 
the basket on the doorstep before papa came 
home, and the card telling where it came from.” 
And Louise pointed triumphantly to the card that 
lay on the table. 

And do you never get lonely when your sister 
is at the seed-sorting house?” asked Marie, as 
Gretchen told her about her father’s and Louise’s 
work. 

Oh yes, a little bit lonely sometimes,” ad- 
mitted Gretchen, but there are so many things 
for company.” 

Marie glanced around the room with its bare 
walls and floor and few articles of plain old 
wooden furniture, and wondered where there 
was anything here that was companionable.” 

There’s the fire, you know,” said Gretchen, 


THE PUKPLE HYACINTH. 


99 


it is full of — of — ” she hesitated about speak- 
ing to her new acquaintance of the little dancing 
figures, so she said, the fire is full of beautiful 
things.’’ 

“ Yes,” said Marie, gaz- 
ing thoughtfully into it, 
I, too, often see them.” 
And then,” contin- 
ued Gretchen, there 
is the Purple Princess, 
and the Holland book, 
and ” 

Who is the Purple 
Princess ? ” interrupted Marie. 

She means the hyacinth,” exclaimed Louise 
in an apologetic undertone to Marie’s mother, 
who was turning the leaves of one of the Christ- 
mas books. Gretchen did not hear Louise, so she 
replied to Marie by saying, The Purple Princess 
is a flower ; her breath is so pure and sweet that 
no evil spirit can do any one any harm where she 
is growing. 

“ Papa told me the story the first day he made 



100 


THE PUKPLE HYACINTH. 


the fire here in this big fireplace. Papa tells 
such nice stories sometimes, not very often, be- 
cause he is busy and hasn’t time, you know ; but 
on days like this, when there’s a holiday, he always 
tells us a lovely Holland story.” 

He is going to tell us one to-day, as soon as 
he gets a lot of wood chopped to make a splendid 
fire,” said Louise. 

All this time the blows of 
Conrad’s axe had resounded 
from the back of the house, 
making any question as to his 
whereabouts or present occu- 
pation wholly unnecessary. 

Gretchen looked dreamily 
into the fire for a few minutes, 
and Marie looked wondering- 
ly at her. 

The little girl’s quaint speech and poetic fancies 
were unlike anything Marie had known before. 
^^And how wondrously pretty she is with her 
luminous gray eyes and mass of silky light hair,” 
thought Marie, and, as if impelled by a desire to 



THP PURPLE HYACIKTH. 


101 


feel of its silky softness, she passed her hand 
caressingly over Gretchen’s hair. 

This aroused the latter from her brief reverie ; 

she smiled and said, as if continu- 
ing her reply to Marie’s question 
as to whether she was sometimes 
lonely : 

“ And the Holland book, when 
I feel lonely I look at it and 
think about it and the story papa 
told me of how the book came to be made. I 
can’t read it, because it is not printed, and it is 
in the Dutch language too.” 

Written in Dutch? Oh, how funny,” laughed 
Marie. Won’t you please show it to me? 
Mamma came from Holland, and could speak only 
Dutch when she was a little girl.” 

Gretchen took the book from its drawer at the 
side of her chair, and unrolled it from its wrap- 
ping of faded silk, saying as she did so, I have 
never shown it to any of the children or other 
people that have come to see me, for they would 
not understand about it. It seems so dear and 



102 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


precious because it is all that papa has that came 
from his lovely home in Holland. 

‘‘ He and his little sister Louise made it to give 
to their mother on her birthday ; papa painted the 
picture on the cover. It was his mother’s favorite 
flower, but the cruel sea came and swept every- 
thing away ; his beautiful home with the tulip- 
garden, his mother and father, and his little sister 
Louise.” 

Marie was listening with absorbing interest to 
Gretchen’s narrative, but her mother had started 
forward and was gazing intently at the book, 
which lay uncovered in Gretchen’s lap. 

What is this you are saying, 
child ! Where did you get this 
book?” exclaimed the lady, hast- 
ily taking it in her hand and turn- 
ing over the leaves, asking with 
breathless eagerness as she did so : 

“ Did you say your father gave 
it to you ? What is your father’s name ? ” 

Why, Conrad van Roosen,” replied Gretchen^ 
surprised at the lady’s excited manner. 



THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


103 


If all your father’s family were drowned, 
how was it that he was spared — and this 
book?” 

^^Papa had been sent on some business to 
a city not far from his home, and then he made 
a visit at the house of his friend Kruseman van 
Bergen, a boy about papa’s own age, and had 
taken this book with him to show to his playmate. 
I think Kruseman van Bergen and papa came 
over to America together, for papa was glad to 
come away from Holland, where the sea had 
swept away every one that he loved. 

And this strip of silk,” continued Gretchen, 

taking it in her hand 

Is a piece of one of my dear mother’s dresses,” 
said the lady, pressing it to her lips, for I was 
the little Louise that helped my brother Conrad 
make that book. Some English people, friends 
of my mother’s, had come to visit us, and had 
invited me to go home with them to spend a few 
months ; my parents had given a hasty consent 
for me to go, my brother Conrad was away in 
Haarlem at the time, but was expected home next 


104 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


day. I wanted to wait and see him to bid him 
good-bye. but my English friends could not wait. 
As soon as w^e arrived in England we received 
the news that the sea had burst through the dykes 
and drowned all my people.” 

Her voice grew husky, and as she paused^ 
Marie, smiling through the tears that filled her 
eyes, put her arm lovingly about her mother and 
said : 

But, mamma dear, you have found some of 
them again.” 

In a few moments more, if any one had looked 
from the windows of the old yel- 
low house toward the yard where 
Conrad was swinging the axe, they 
would have seen the elegantly 
dressed lady, her cloak unfast- 
ened and trailing in the snow, and 
heard her say as she approached 
him, 

Conrad, Conrad, my brother ! 

The sea did not sweep me away ; 

I am your sister Louise. Don’t you know me ? ” 



THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 105 

For a moment or two Conrad stood like one 
deprived of the power of speech, looking intently 
at the lady, and then in the Dutch language he 
said, My little sister Louise ! My own little 
sister ! ’’ 

And the long-parted brother and sister were 
clasped in each other’s arms, sobbing for very 

joy- 

***** 

Oh, the happy group that 
gathered around the fire of 
apple-wood in the big fire- 
place in the old house that 
Christmas Day ! 

The Holland story that 
Conrad had promised to tell his little girls was 
told that day in an unexpected manner, and with 
a more joyous ending than any one could have 
imagined. 

There was a brief pause in the conversation 
after Conrad and his sister had exchanged expla- 
nations, and there was heard a low contented mur- 



106 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 



A hissing and spluttering at the end of the log 
formed itself into the weird minor notes of the 
song of Blue-nose, and with her long trailing cloak 
of the blue and green rainbow tints she moved 
across the log in a graceful minuet. 

Then there was a flash, a sound of sparkling 
laughter, a cloud of flying, twinkling sparks echo- 
ing the words of Rosy-toes as she danced and 


sang : 



Tho’ chimney dark 
May hide our spark, 


May hide our spark ; 


We linger near. 


No weather drear ^ 

Our glee e’er blights, \ 


We bring you cheer, 
I and my sprites. 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


107 




Yellow-breeches and a swarm 
of others were there, dancing and 
whirling in and out among the logs. 

Gretchen smiled and nodded to them, 
but Louise exclaimed excitedly, as she 
pointed to them : 

Oh, I see Gretchen’s fire-fairies ! 
Look quick ! 

Yes, I see them,” said Marie, 
leaning forward. ^^Oh, how 

beautiful ! Mamma, can ^ 

you see them?” she asked, 
turning to her mother, who 
had drawn Louise to her side. 

Yes, I see them plainly and hear their song; 
how sweet it is ! ” 




108 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


Gretchen has said all along that they had 
promised to bring good luck to this dear old 
house, and I think surely they have kept their 
promise/’ said Conrad, his careworn face beaming 
with happiness as he looked from one to another 
of the dear ones grouped around him. 

Aiid the snow-fairies,” Louise hastened to 



say, “ we must not forget that they helped bring 
good luck too,” and she caressed a big flaxen- 
haired doll that had come in the basket of snow- 
fairy gifts. 

Ah, yes,” responded Gretchen, the snow- 
fairies and my dear fire-fairies are all very good 
and beautiful, and the wind and Smoke- wreath — 
they have all helped. But the dear Purple Prin- 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


109 


cess is best of all, for if it had not been for the 
wonderful Dutch book, with its stories and picture 
of the purple hyacinth we never should have 
known all this,’’ and the little girl looked lovingly 
at her newly-found cousin, Marie. 

Conrad is no longer a gardener working for 
scanty wages, but is the owner of fine large 
greenhouses and nursery-gardens. 



The old house has had a fresh coat of yel- 
low paint, and the big room where the happy 
fire-fairies still hold their revels on the logs of 
applewood is filled with pretty things ; the 
walls and floors are no longer bare and 
cheerless. 

And Gretchen, dear, happy little Gretchen, 


110 


THE PURPLE HYACINTH. 


surrounded by books and beautiful things, looks 
lovingly toward the window and says, Dear 
Princess, sweet purple hyacinth, if it had not 
been for you it would not all have happened/’ 





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